


Bad Day

by E_Salvatore



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Childish fighting, F/M, imported from fanfiction.net, sort of fluffy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So he's just gotten out of Surgery No. 87 and she's worn a hole in the carpet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Day

Pacing.

She is pacing, and God, is she tired of pacing. But he is in surgery, _again_ , and she's freaked out, _again_ , and she isn't allowed to even watch.

_Again_.

This whole 'basket-case' thing is really getting extreme. Extreme and completely pathetic and embarrassing. After a while, even the nurses know to shoot her sympathetic looks when he's scheduled for anything.

In order to protect whatever dignity she has left, she's taken to pacing. Often in his room; sometimes in the doctor's lounge; sometimes in an empty hall. Christina is totally amused by this: her cool, calm, collected mentor breaking down into a mess every single time her husband is in the hospital. But that's the thing: it's her _husband_. And she hadn't been lying when she'd given him that dreadful _if-I-never-see-you-again_ speech. He's made her _so_ happy, and she loves him, even if she's had a hard time admitting that.

Because good stories end up in ruins all the time – no one gets their happily ever after. And they had been a good story. Until they became more than just a story, and now they might get ruined and - oh God, she's worn a hole into the soft carpeting of the lounge.

Crap.

* * *

Sleeping.

He's sleeping and she's watching, just waiting for him to come to. Visiting hours are long over, obviously, but no one's going to bother her with that. Their little romance is well-known amongst the staff, especially the nurses, and no one's going to mess with her, not when they can watch from afar and report to the others tomorrow how she had sat there for hours and how when he finally woke up, she'd cried out of sheer relief and he'd held her close all night.

Well, that's how it usually goes.

But today's been a bad day and this is a bad night and emotions are running high.

"Bailey came out twice today, because your surgery took longer than they expected."

"Twice?" He grins. "That's one for the books. Surgery no. 87, notable event: Teddy was updated not once, but twice."

On a normal night she might smile and climb into the tiny bed with him and joke around, but as previously mentioned, this is not a normal night and she is not her normal self and this effortless teasing grates on her already-raw nerves.

"Seriously, Henry? I tell you that you almost coded, right there on the damn table and that's all you can do? Make a joke about it?" She's dangerously close to screaming, which is not a good thing. He's taken aback because she never raises her voice in front of him, not when they're talking about his many surgeries; not when he's just woken up from another one.

"Hey, come on. You know I was just kidding."

"I know." Those two words are cold instead of the soft concession he'd expected, and really, why must he give in all the time? He's the one who spent the day on a table with his inner organs exposed for all to see, not her.

"What do you want me to do, Teddy? Stay awake during surgery so that I can reassure you? Put myself in pain so that you won't be?"

"If that's what you think I would want-"

"I don't know _what_ to think! Jesus, Teddy, I spent the day getting cut up. It happens every week and you should be used to this by now. We've been through this."

"If you think I will _ever_ get used to knowing that you're somewhere, cut open and probably close to death while I can't do anything, then there must be something wrong with you!" Her last seven words are loud; so loud that a small, logical part of her tells her she should keep it down.

"And that's the thing, isn't it? You hate knowing that you can't do anything! You can't save the day every single time. Sometimes you have to step down and let someone else do the damn thing!" He's yelling, and it hurts like hell but what hurts even more is having this fight. He doesn't like it, not at all, but damn it, this has got to stop because the mere thought of her in pain every single time he's wheeled off is too much for him to bear.

"Control issues?" Her voice is incredulous and she has a hysterical, nearly manic glint in her eyes. "You think this is about control issues? Screw this, Henry! I get myself sick just thinking about how you can die every time you're in there, which is more often than not, and you think I have _control issues_?" She's definitely lost it now, but really, she couldn't care less. This is her loving him more than anything and him being stupid.

"Look, Teddy-"

"Save it." She spits out in disgust. "Obviously, I was wrong to think that maybe this is an equal thing. Because I love you too much and maybe that's my fault."

Now she's done it.

"Are you implying that I don't love you enough?"

"I'm not implying anything, Burton."

"You sure sound like you are, Doctor Altman."

He knows this is her self-doubt and self-destructive side at play, and what he's just called her isn't going to help anything, but maybe she'll storm off and everything will be better in the morning.

Everything will be better in the morning.

He just needs to get her away from him; the sight of him, pale and frail and tiny in a hospital bed, hooked up to crazy things.

"So now it's Doctor Altman?"

"Can you honestly tell me you'd prefer Mrs. Burton?"

"You never asked!"

"You never wanted it."

"Great, go be presumptuous. You know what, Henry? I'm done. I'm just going to go home, and sleep, and maybe in the morning you'll realize you're being crazy."

"Now _I'm_ the crazy one? I'm not the one freaking out and pacing halls and snapping at his wife who's been through hell."

"It's great to see that my concern is appreciated." Her dry sarcasm hurts. She picks up her things in a flurry of rage and prepares to leave.

"Just go, Teddy. Maybe you should have gone the first time, and never come back."

"You're going to bring this up _now_? You were the one snapping at me all day long because I was leaving with Andrew!"

"Maybe you should have!"

It's terribly childish of her, but she has to have the final word as she leaves.

"Fine!"

He sighs.

He's definitely gone too far.

* * *

Screaming.

She's screaming to herself in the car; a bunch of rage-fueled nonsence, really, but it feels good.

How dare he?

Of course she understands his condition, but that's as a doctor. As his wife, there is no understanding why he's being put through this and it hurts like hell. Why can't he understand that?

And bringing up Andrew?

For the first time in her life, she'd done the right thing, and not the easy thing.

Being a doctor – a straight and clear path that had allowed her to see her future while everyone else was struggling to find theirs.

Going off to the warzone – an easy escape after she'd gotten too involved with someone she shouldn't have; when she started caring about all the wrong people, all of the people who died.

Hell, even being with Mark Sloane had been an easy thing!

And then she marries him. And yes, she knows that this isn't just a business arrangement, but that self-preserving part of her knows it can't be more than what it already is because Henry is _dying_ and she can't let him die on her.

Then Andrew swoops in and all the pieces fall in place. Of course she'll leave everything behind; of course she'll go with Andrew and start over in some foreign country and learn to really love him, because she won't have anyone else.

But she doesn't.

She comes back at the last possible second and she gets him to stand up and she loves him. And loving him had been so easy, until that first day he'd come in after their getting together.

And then things just went downhill.

Because loving him is not easy.

It is hard work and pain and tears and more tears and cries of frustration and the occasional still heart when Bailey comes out looking down.

It is equal parts joy and misery because when he's alright, they're perfect and no one, _no one_ , has ever been this happy. But then he's not alright and God, it's impossible that anyone has ever felt worse than she does at the exact moment he blanches and goes pale.

It is the best thing and the worst thing and definitely not the easy thing, which is why she's struggling with herself. Because Doctor Altman does the easy thing, every time, no questions asked, no second-guessing.

But Teddy, this woman she barely knows, is a masochist and a sucker for her husband, whom she loves so, so much. And she is honestly scared by the depths of her feelings because no one has ever felt this intensely – _no one_.

And now she feels horrible because he's alive – he's alive for another day and that in itself is a miracle – and here she is, making a fool out of herself, wasting their time together by being this insane, neurotic _wife_.

She used to be a lot of things – a doctor, a surgeon, a miracle-worker, a friend, a mentor, but it seems that these days everyone is calling her one thing: a _wife_.

Whoever said that love was blind had clearly never loved, because love isn't blind.

It's pure madness.

* * *

Staring.

She's leaning against the door, not quite brave enough to come in, and he's staring at her while she stares at him.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth – just how ridiculous can they get, two grown-ups who can't even function properly? – and she steps in, an apology in its own.

She doesn't speak up, not yet, choosing instead to lie down next to him, pushing herself as close as she can get. He shifts and wraps his arms around her – forgiveness in a single action – and so, knowing that she won't face rejection, she speaks softly.

"I'm sorry."

She waits for what seems like forever – waits for an 'It's okay' or maybe 'I know', but those words never come.

"I'm sorry, too. God, Teddy, the things you make me say…"

"Think about how you make me feel."

"Point." He concedes, soft laughter sending vibrations dancing down the tiny bed. In that moment, she knows they'll be okay.

"I'm worse than a basket-case. I'm a serial basket-case."

"I know. And I still think it's adorable."

"Not when we start fighting. Henry, some of those things we said tonight –"

"-were just words," He reassures her. "Words spoken because we were stressed out and this really hasn't been a good day."

Momentary silence engulfs them while she thinks.

"Yeah, this day sucked."

"Totally." He agrees easily, moving them around so that he can look her in the eye.

"Teddy, no matter what happens, we're always going to be stressed. And there will be bad days, and there will be fights, and painful words."

"But I don't like it." She admits, almost childlike in her words.

"And I don't, either. But it's going to happen, just like I'm going to have tons more surgeries and you're going to wear down the tiles in this place after the Chief bans you from the lounge."

"How did you-?"

"Doctor Bailey told me. Did you know the Chief just got those carpets put in a while ago? _And_ they're cream, Teddy. It's gonna be hard to cover up." That familiar grin rids her of any lingering traces of this bad day and she relaxes in his arms.

"But the point is: shit happens. And fights happen. But we're going to be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" She sounds like a whiny, insecure teen with issues, but this is her selfish side at work, again. She has never been so happy and part of her knows that without Henry, she will hit rock-bottom. She can never, ever lose him. Not when the mere thought of it is enough to give her nightmares.

"Because I love you," He says simply. "And I pray to God that you love me too, because otherwise I won't be able to forgive your crazy episode from earlier."

"I love you." She affirms, and he nods.

"Good. So we'll be fine."

"Okay."

It's crazy, really, how much trust she puts into these small words and foreign feelings, but she does. And so it'll be fine; _they_ 'll be fine.

"Now that that's over…" Henry starts and there's the slightest hint of a teasing tone to his words, and God help her, as much as she loves this man she can't help but feel a slight twinge of dread because the crazy things and thoughts he comes up with sometimes scare her.

"Now that that's over?" She prompts him, because she is the tiniest bit curious.

"We might have to discuss something."

"Such as?"

Hesitation. It's something she almost never sees in him, because that's just Henry: blunt to a fault.

"I really never asked."

Confusion, and then…

"Oh."

"Which one _do_ you prefer?"

"Henry…"

"Come on, I wanna know."

"I… I don't know."

She's lying, because he just knows she was that girl in high school who would idly doodle her name across a private page intertwined with some boy's last name.

"Teddy." He wants to know.

"Henry." End of discussion.

"Come on." Just this one question?

"No." Drop it.

A wicked smile, masked by his actions as he pulls up the sheets.

"Fine."

If she's surprised at how fast he's dropped it, she knows how to hide it. And besides, she probably knows how tired he is, so they settle down and try to catch up on some sleep.

"Good night, Henry."

"Good night…. Mrs. Burton."

She doesn't protest, and though he can't tell for sure, there's the slightest imprint of lips curving upwards on his neck, where she hides her face.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Grey's fic; can you tell that I pick all the wrong ships to ship? Anyway: written before That Awful Thing I Haven't Forgiven Shonda Rhimes For.


End file.
